


Hosts and Healing

by OrchestralSeekerling



Series: Of Hosts and Cassettes [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Child Abandonment, Gen, Hospitals, Host-Cassette relationship, Past character death (mentioned), Spark-merge (nonsexual), Transformer Sparklings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-01-10 23:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12310425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrchestralSeekerling/pseuds/OrchestralSeekerling
Summary: Frequency is a host mech whose cassettes were all killed.Cascade is medic to an abandoned newspark who won't survive independently.In a last ditch effort to give the newspark a chance at survival, Cascade brings the two together.





	1. Chapter 1

The Seeker stared at the thing, the- the _egg,_ the medic Cascade, had said it was. He pushed the gently glowing thing away from him, staring at it fearfully.

"Your young one is in there. A new-sparked Seeker," the medic said. "It needs you. Needs to hear you talk to it, needs your comfort. It can hear you through the shell, and will hatch soon."

The Seeker just shook his head, optics wide and fearful, overbright. "No- please- don't make me- please just take it away!"

The medic hesitated, then nodded. "If you're sure-"

"Please!"

And so the medic approached slowly and gently took the egg in his servos, murmuring to it gently as he carried it from the room. It wasn't as if he could blame the carrier, after what he had endured. All the same, it was a sad thing, all the way around. Neither carrier nor Creation had done anything to deserve this.

***

Cascade, unfortunately, had other duties and patients and so could not hover over the egg and care for it as it needed, so into an incubator it went, and instead of a responsive carrier to talk to it and sing to it, with all the little chirrs and chirps, it had a recording that played on repeat, unresponsive to the little questioning chirps and the little sounds of upset that growing Seekerlings make. It had to be spoken to, or its processor wouldn't develop properly, but in the circumstances, this was the best that could be done.

At first, the little one became ever-more distressed when his cries seeking the comfort of his carrier - something the recording could not provide - went unnoticed by anyone. As time went on, the little one within the shell became still much of the time. What was the point in crying for comfort when nobody would answer? No one ever had, after all. It wasn't just the cries for comfort that fell out of the little one's repertoire, however. As time went on, the little questions stopped too, and then the cries of joy, and finally the little one's burbling stopped entirely.

The little one within the egg was so silent that even the assistant that monitored the eggs periodically had to do a scan each day to determine the sparkling's status. Finding that it appeared to be fine (even if the glow of the little spark wasn't as bright as the medical staff would have liked), the assistant simply made a note and moved on.

When the newspark began scrabbling weakly at the inside of the shell to no avail, Cascade happened to have dropped by to check on it. He felt responsible for this one, even if he shouldn't have felt any more responsible for this one than for any of the rest. "Hey, little one, there you go, you can do it," he encouraged gently. 

The little one just kept scrabbling ineffectively. The medic frowned and ran a scan, his optics narrowing. "Looks like you probably need a little help, hm?" he asked. He took a tool from the supply kept in this room, then rested a servo on the egg gently. "It's okay. I'm going to help you." And then he carefully pierced the shell before pulling a piece of it away, even as he commed an assistant to prep the spark support he could already see this little one would need if it was to survive. With the assistance hatching, however, the little one, rather than proceeding to help himself out of the egg, only cringed as far away from the tools as possible.

"It's okay little one. I'm just helping you out of there," the medic soothed. It wasn't long before he held the little one in his servos. Its tiny frame was so weak, almost limp. A moment later, the assistant arrived and they quickly got the little one hooked up. He protested at the spark support, bleating weakly, but his field flaring slightly with fear and anger.

"I know, I know, it doesn't feel good little one, but you have to have it so you can grow strong," the medic crooned.

"You know this one won't ever be able to maintain its frame-size," the assistant said, giving the medic a look. "We really shouldn't even be-"

"That's enough," the medic said firmly, stroking the tiny helm with one digit.

The assistant subsided, shook his head, and began cleaning up.

***

A few cycles later, the medic stood over the bassinette, looking down at the tiny Seekerling. Its undersized frame was almost obscured by the sensors and connections that kept it alive. No carrier hovered to fuss over it, and no sire stood nearby protectively, only the medic stood vigil with the little one as it struggled to live. An assistant stopped to rest a servo on the medic's shoulder. "You know that with no one to claim it we can't keep it on spark support. The longer you wait, the harder it will be."

The medic shrugged the assistant's servo away without responding, racking his processor for a solution he hadn't already tried as he stroked the tiny helm. It was about all that could be gotten to of the little one. Suddenly, his servo halted, a thoughtful look crossing his features, then a slightly tentative smile crossed his features. "Hang on, little one. We'll make a way for you," he whispered before leaving, warning a colleague who specialized in newspark processor coding that he was coming to discuss something with him.

***

Frequency stood, his servos pressed against the clear cover of the bassinette the protected this tiny newspark who was also a cassette. Something about the situation didn't make sense in his processor, but he couldn't have explained why. His vents came raggedly. Could he do this? His coding demanded that he should, that this tiny cassette needed a host, but that thought only started again the parade of memories, of cassette after cassette deactivated in front of him. This one, smelted alive, that one crushed beneath another mech's pede, yet another one slowly dismembered until he had none left. Twelve cassettes there had been in all, and one by one they had all been deactivated as part of his 'training.' His spark was tattered and his docks were empty. If he took this cassette, named it his own, tied it forever to his own spark... surely it would only meet the same fate. He peeled his servos off the clear top of the bassinette and staggered back a pace. No. He would never again do that to a cassette, no matter how difficult it was to deny his own host coding.

"The little one needs you," Cascade said from where he had been leaning against the doorframe.

"No- I- I can't! Can't keep them safe!" The young host mech said shakily, even as he turned to face the medic. When had he gotten there? How long had he been watching? "I can't do that to- any more. Never again!"

"It cannot survive on its own. Its spark is too weak. With the support of a bond with you, it might have a chance," Cascade said gently.

"Its creators-"

"Its carrier didn't want it. Wouldn't keep the egg it hatched from. There is no known sire." The medics voice was calm and even, not pushing, just explaining. "It's alone. Completely alone."

"But if I take it, it'll deactivate!" He said, almost hysterically. 

"Nobody will take your cassettes from you here. You are safe. Any cassettes you take on will be safe." Cascade soothed.

"I can't!"

"You have two more cycles to make your decision. Then the spark support will be turned off. If there's nobody to help..." he shrugged and turned, leaving the young mech staring after him.

***

Frequency didn't leave the room. He spent much of the time sitting on the floor, occasionally glancing up at the bassinette. It wasn't the only bassinette in the room - this was the nursury, after all, but he knew exactly which one it was in, even when he couldn't see the little one. How could he not, with that desperate cassette coding calling to his spark, demanding he accept it, prompting his host coding to press insistently at his processor? 

The medical assistants that cared for the newsparks here did not press him, did not speak to him. They simply went about their business as if he were not there.

***

The second light-cycle ended, and the third began, and Cascade stood, looking down at the young carrier mech. "Well?"

Frequency looked up at him, not quite registering the question for a moment, then nodded mutely. He could fight his coding no longer. It wouldn't last but for a short time, at least, he would be happy. and maybe... maybe this time he wouldn't fail his cassette.

Cascade nodded and opened the bassinette, setting the cover aside. "You'll have to be quick," he warned. "As soon as I remove the spark support, its spark will begin to fail."

Trembling, Frequency rose, moving closer. He fidgeted awkwardly, not sure what to do with his servos. His spark lurched anxiously, even as he gave an internal command and his spark chamber transformed open. It wasn't proper to do in the open, in front of others like this, but he would not risk being too slow and causing his cassette's death. Pale blue light washed over the tiny Seeker-cassette, sharply outlining its delicate features, fragile digits, the soft protoform that would be all too easy to damage until it was older and had armor. 

"There," Cascade said softly, lifting the tiny creature free of the cables that had been keeping it alive and passing it to Frequency. Its tiny spark chamber was still open thanks to a medical override, and already it was beginning to flicker. For the barest moment, Frequency froze. What if he failed this one, like he had all the others? What if it deactivated? What if- If he didn't act now, it most certainly would deactivate. The little one's limbs were jerking stiffly in obvious distress now, and he immediately lifted it carefully to his own spark, his spark, large enough to engulf the entire tiny figure if he wasn't careful. He was careful, and blue light joined that tiny, flickering gold. He could feel the innocence, the purity of the tiny one, as well as the suspicion and fear born of the abandonment it had already experienced. _I will protect you,_ he promised through the merge. _I am yours. Forever I am yours. Your host. You are safe._

Finally, at length, he drew the little one away, the merge ending. It had calmed and just gazed up at him, still and silent. The tiny spark, strengthened by the merge and now sustained through the bond they had established, spun evenly and calmly.


	2. Newsparks and Needs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caring for a very young newspark, especially one as weak as this one, can be difficult, and Frequency and his cassette are no exception.
> 
> Written from the perspective of the newspark.

The newspark lay quietly, cradled against the big mech's chest. Host. Right, that's what this one was called. This one belonged to him. He could feel him in his spark, feel that this one cared for him, and that was a balm to the little one. 

They were in a new place, a strange place, and that frightened the newspark a little. He was used to small spaces, closed in spaces, having experienced the egg and then the bassinet, which, though larger than the egg, had still been enclosed. The great, wide openness that was what Host called a 'habsuite' was terrifying, but Host was here, Host was holding him, and it would be okay.

"It's okay, bit," Host said. "You're safe; I have you."

Host sat down and stroked the newspark's tiny helm with one digit. "I can't just keep calling you 'bit' forever. You need a proper name." He paused, then said, "They told me Seekerlings are supposed to be able to talk right away, at least in binary. Do you have any ideas of what you might like to be called?"

The newspark listened to the words with interest, cycling his little optics contentedly as he relaxed. The sound of Host's voice was soothing. If Host had brought him to this open, scary place, and if Host was not upset or worried, then he would not be either. Oh, a name. Yes, he wanted a name, and he had ideas. Maybe he'd be called Power-strong-wing, or perhaps Fast-Quick-Race. Those would be nice. He looked up at Host expectantly. Surely Host could see that these would be appropriate names.

"You're awfully quiet," Host said. "The medics told me that Seekerlings are normally very noisy until they get big." He frowned slightly.

The newspark cringed. He had displeased Host. He was bad. He wasn't sure what he had done wrong, but he was bad.

"Perhaps I will call you Whisperglide. Seekers fly, and you're so quiet, I think it fits. What do you think?" Host asked.

The newspark didn't like it at all. It sounded small and weak, and he wasn't weak! He was strong! But... if Host said it was fitting... Whisperglide gazed placidly up at Host.

Host vented slowly at the lack of reply. "Whisperglide it is, then," he said. "I expect you're hungry. It's been long enough since you fueled.

Whisperglide's tank gurgled, aching a little. Good. He was glad Host chose to feed him, and he smiled.

"Alright, then," Host said, smiling back and tracing a digit along one tiny wing. "I'll prepare a feeder. Stay put."

Whisperglide shivered at the touch on his wing, then stiffened when he was set down. Was Host Leaving him? What had he done wrong? Why was Host leaving him alone in this huge horrible openness? He began to vent quickly, trembling, but remained otherwise silent. He curled up tightly, little wings clamping against his backstruts. He was alone! Abandoned!

Host returned, and immediately picked him up. "What is it bit? It's okay; you're okay, I've got you." He stroked Whisperglide gently, sending comfort through the cassette/host bond. "Your food is ready, bitlet. If you uncurl, you can have some."

Whisperglide looked up at Host, his little vents hitching. Host had come back! But why had he been left? Whatever he had done to make Host leave, he wanted to make sure never to do it again. Host moved the feeder near his intake, and Whisperglide opened his intake, accepting it gratefully. He would figure this out. He would determine what caused Host to abandon him, and he would eliminate whatever it was he had done. He slowly calmed, helped by the gradual filling of his fuel tank and host's gentle touches and words.

It only took Whisperglide a few cycles to figure out what it was he had done to cause Host to abandon him: he had smiled when Host had decided to feed him. Wanting fuel meant Host abandoned him. He needed Host more than he needed fuel, and he resolved not to suggest he wanted fuel ever again.


	3. Chapter 3

Cascade had been having a relatively quiet day when he recieved the urgent page. He raced downstairs, only to find a harried receptionist trying to ward off the newspark that was being thrust at him. "Sir, you can't just- no, it doesn't work like that, your medic should be-"

"Why don't you come with me, Frequency," Cascade said calmly, even as he rested a servo on the mech's shoulder and guided him back to an exam room.

"Please, you have to take him back! I told you, they always deactivate! All of them!" The distressed host-mech said, his field flared wide in panic and emotional pain. The newspark was limp in his servos.

"He's yours," Cascade said, even as he took the tiny newspark gently in his servos. It gazed placidly up at him, tiny optics dim, but the moment he was taken from Frequency's servos, the tiny field flared weakly in panic. Cascade frowned slightly, but didn't return him, only stroking the little wings gently to try and soothe the little one. "Nothing can change that now, but I can try to help you figure out what's going on. Why don't you tell me what happened?" Even as he spoke, he started a scan of Whisperglide.

"I- I don't know, exactly! He just- he was fine the first day, but after that he- he wouldn't eat, and he gets so upset when I prepare the feeder, and he spits it out and won't eat!" Frequency said, too upset to care that he was repeating himself. "I told you not to give him to me! I told you they all deactivate!"

"He's not going to deactivate. We won't let him." He smiled down at the newspark, even as he commed one of the assistants for the supplies he would need. "We just need to get you on a direct energon line, yes we do," he cooed. 

The assistant arrived, and it was the work of moments to get energon running into the little ones systems in carefully controlled quantities so as to not overwhelm his systems all at once. 

The medic tapped on his datapad a few times, then said, "Alright. Let's see if we can figure out what's going on. Did he eat the first day?"

"Yeah, but he was really upset, and it took a bit for me to calm him down. He gets upset every time I come back with the feeder." Frequency said. "I told you this wouldn't work! All my cassettes deactivate! Every time!"

"Frequency, you need to calm down. Has he said anything about something scaring him? Could it be there's something in the suite he's afraid of when you're not holding him?" Cascade asked.

"He hasn't said anything at all! I don't get what's wrong! They told me before I left that he can speak binary already, but he hasn't said anything at all!" Frequency said, further distressed now that his attention had been drawn to the fact. There would be no calming down anytime soon.

Cascade stood, studying the newspark's scan results for a time, before saying, "As weak as he is, he'll need to stay here for a few cycles until he's stronger, and then we'll see if we can sort out the feeding problem, alright? We're going to help you, Frequency."

"Okay," Frequency said shakily. "Can I... hold him? He's terrified."

"Yeah, that's a good idea, just don't dislodge that energon line." Cascade said. He'd do a full systems check, and a processed energon analysis as soon as he could, but the newspark wasn't strong enough for either right now. He'd also have a sparkling processor specialist have a look at his language center. That the newspark hadn't yet spoken was concerning, to say the least.

When Cascade left the room, Frequency had Whisperglide in his servos, gently stroking the tiny wings and murmuring assurances.

Cascade was just glad Frequency had given up trying to give the newspark back.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cascade and Frequency continue their efforts to determine what is wrong with Whisperglide.

Whisperglide clutched one of Host's digits tightly, tucking his tiny faceplates against it. Host had abandoned him again, and worse, this time, he had let another mech take him! And this time, his tank hadn't rumbled, and he hadn't smiled or anything that he could think of that had previously prompted such a reaction. He clutched the digit even more tightly. Maybe if he held on tightly enough, Host wouldn't be able to give him away.

Normally he could understand what Host said, but most of what he and the other mech had said today had been fuzzy, slipping away from him before he could focus on it. He had felt bad, so bad too. He was feeling better now. At least he could move, could hold on to Host and keep him from giving him away again.

The other mech had left, and it had been just him and host for a while, now. He liked that better, felt safer without the other in the room. His optics flickered off and he recharged, still clinging to Host's digit.

When his optics flickered back on, Host said, "Hello, Whisperglide. Feeling better?"

It was a relief to be able to understand Host again. He liked to hear Host talk to him. He felt the vibrations of the sound, the warm emotion behind the words, and to understand meaning, to hear the care in the words normally made him feel safe.

It would have now, if there hadn't been fear in Host's field. Whisperglide's tiny faceplates rippled in confusion, and he reset his optics a few times, trying to get them to focus properly, to little avail. Everything was a little bit blurry, and that wasn't helping him understand the difference between the feeling from Host's words and the feeling of his field, since he couldn't quite focus on Host's faceplates.

"Alright, looks like he's doing much better, now we need to run some tests to see what, exactly is going on." The stranger was back.

Whisperglide clutched Host's digits tightly, determined that he would not be given away again. He would not allow it.

"Frequency, do I have your permission to hardline him to get some diagnostic information?" the stranger asked.

Whisperglide didn't understand the stranger's words, and even as he tried to sort them out, Host replied with words that the newspark didn't catch, and then the stranger was _touching_ him, shifting a small piece of plating aside and pressing something against him. He tried to squirm away, his venting suddenly quick and his tiny field flaring fearfully. 

The mech said something that Whisperglide was too distracted to even try to understand, and then he was held down as that something was pressed _into_ his wrist. He gave a cry of distress, a terrified, broken, angry sound. Why was Host allowing the stranger to do this to him?

Host was stroking his wings, making calm sounds. He liked when Host did that, but right now, with the thing inside him and the stranger holding it there, making sure he didn't pull it out, it did little to comfort him. Besides that, no matter what sound Host made, he still felt afraid, and if Host was afraid, that meant Whisperglide should be afraid. He grabbed and tugged desperately at the thing inside him with his free servo, to no avail.

Then, somehow, his processor felt wrong, and it took him a moment to realise that this felt like the thing that was in his wrist. Something was in his processor! He shoved at it, his processor throwing all of its feeble defenses at the intruder. The intruder ignored him, calmly pulling up files that Whisperglide couldn't even begin to understand. All he knew was that this thing didn't belong, and he wanted it out!

***

Cascade withdrew from the hardline with a gentle touch to the little helm. The newspark snapped his tiny denta and tried to bite him. "At least you know he's feeling better if he's trying to bite me," Cascade said with a chuckle. "All of his diagnostics looked normal, except for what I'd expect to be off after not eating for too long. I would have had a closer look at his thought processes, but he was so distressed even at me pulling up the diagnostics that I thought it best not to push things too far, with him being as young as he is. If you're okay with it, I'd like to turn off the direct line for about a joor. He's strong enough that that shouldn't hurt him, and I'd like to see what happens when you try to feed him."

Frequency didn't take his optics off his cassette, but Whisperglide didn't look back. He had his faceplates tucked tightly against his Host's digits again, his tiny frame trembling. "It's okay, little one," he said. "I have you. I won't let anything happen to you. You're safe." Even as he said the words, Frequency hoped he wasn't lying to the bitlet. He had spoken those words before, and then, they had been a lie, because all of those who had preceded Whisperglide, all those previously entrusted to his care, were now with Primus. But he'd say anything, literally anything to soothe the distress he felt in that tiny field.

He hesitated, then said, "He still seems so weak... are you sure it's okay?"

"He won't offline in a joor, and if he gets worse, we'll just turn it back on. I'll affix some sensors to him and if anything happens, I'll get an alert and be back in clicks." Cascade replied.

"Alright," Frequency said uncertainly. He paused, then said, "That cry... that was the first sound I've ever heard him make."


	5. Chapter 5

Whisperglide didn't cling to Frequency's digits as he had before. He didn't look up at his Host. Instead, he lay curled up tightly, as much as his developing plating would allow. Shudders ran through the tiny frame often, and grief, betrayal, and above all _fear_ surged through their sparkbond.

Frequency ran a digit along the tiny frame gently. "I'm sorry I let things get this bad, Whisperglide," he said. "And I know the tests aren't nice, but they'll help me know how take care of you better."

Whisperglide responded immediately with a flash of angry orange optics. One set of tiny claws detached itself from the tightly-curled ball of newspark, lashing out and catching one of Frequency's digits. Energon welled, barely visible in the tiny wound. 

The host-mech recoiled and immediately set Whisperglide down, backing away from the examination berth that was far, far too large for the newspark cassette. Cascade was wrong. He had been right to try to give Whisperglide back. He was no fit creator, and he was no fit host for any cassette, much less this one. No amount of testing, no amount of information would ever result in this newspark surviving. He backed away until he was pressed against the wall of the small room. This one would deactivate, just like all the others if he stayed, if he kept him. The orange optics continued to glare at him, and the grief, betrayal and fear poured powerfully through their bond. Frequency had failed to take care of Whisperglide. He deserved the emotional accusation. It was his fault Whisperglide wasn't eating, his fault Whisperglide never spoke or made any sound except that once.

Whisperglide deserved better. Better than him. Whisperglide deserved to live. They would find him another host, a better host, a better creator. Cascade would make sure of it. It would be for the best. It would be better for Whisperglide. He sent a pulse of apology through their bond. He was sorry. Sorry he wasn't better. Sorry he had failed his cassette once again. Sorry that he had been arrogant enough to think that he would be - could ever be - good enough for Whisperglide.

He twisted to the side and out the door, walking fast, helm down. He didn't look at anyone, just walked quickly from the room and then from the building. It was against his coding at a basic level, but this was for the best. It was best for Whisperglide. He tried to ignore the fear- no, utter terror he felt on Whisperglide's side of the bond. 

It was for the best.

***

Whisperglide lay curled tightly, utterly alone on the berth that was far too large for him. He was alone. Host was leaving him, and this time, not only did he know it from the fact that he could no longer see him, he could feel it deep within his spark, the sense of 'sorry' that he didn't quite understand, but sensed was very, very bad, and the sensation that Host was getting farther and farther away, and then a deep sadness from Host. Why was Host going away?

But then, Whisperglide already knew the answer to that question. He was the worst cassette ever sparked. He had hurt Host. He had turned his claws against Host. He had been a bad newspark, and he was a bad cassette. 

No wonder Carrier hadn't wanted him. They had known that he was a bad newspark. That is why they hadn't wanted him, why he had been left all alone before he had even hatched. Host had given him another chance, a chance to be a good cassette instead of a bad newspark, but he had failed. He was a bad cassette. Of course Host would not keep a bad cassette, a cassette that attacked him. Host would go find a good cassette, a cassette that deserved to be taken care of, a cassette that deserved to be loved. 

He would never be that cassette.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cascade goes after Frequency.

Frequency huddled in his habsuite, trembling. The nature of a host-cassette bond was such that he could still feel the little one's terror. Had he made a mistake? But no. Whisperglide had been dying because he was unfit to be a host. It had been right of him to leave. Now he could be cared for by someone better.

Despite his resolve, his vents began to hitch. Whisperglide, _his_ Whisperglide was hurting and terrified because of him.

The door to his habsuite chimed and he stiffened, staring toward it. If he was quiet enough, they'd probably go away.

"Frequency, open the door." It was Cascade's voice. "We need to talk, and I know you're in there."

Frequency didn't reply. He was losing yet another cassette, and the last thing he wanted was to talk to anyone.

"I'm looking at your signature right here on an enforcer's scanner, Frequency. Let me in or they're likely to break your door down."

"He's better off without me!" Frequency finally replied brokenly.

"Please... just let me in and we'll talk?" Cascade tried.

Frequency hesitated, then opened the door. "Just you," he said, eyeing the enforcer that accompanied Cascade warily.

The enforcer looked as if he might protest, but Cascade glanced at him and shook his helm slightly. "He's not violent, and I can comm if I need you."

The enforcer hesitated, then nodded.

Cascade slipped inside, and the moment he did, Frequency fled to huddle on the far end of his couch, watching Cascade with frightened optics. "He's better off without me! He's dying because of me!"

Cascade sat down. "He's not going to die. We'll make sure of that."

"He is! All of my cassettes die!" Frequency rose, paced to the other side of the room, then again sank down onto the couch, putting his helm in his servos.

"It's true that they all have in the past, but Frequency, you're free now. Nobody is going to take him from you." Cascade said. "Nobody will hurt him." He paused. "He was abandoned in the shell. Seekerlings tend to be aware of these things. For you to abandon him too..."

Frequency looked down, shuddering. "I'm not abandoning him. I'm giving him up so he can be taken care of by someone who won't get him killed."

"He won't see it that way. Besides that, you can't give him up, Frequency. When I brought you to him, it was because becoming yours was the only way he could live. If you abandon him," Cascade intentionally used the same word, "he will die within a few cycles."

"Give him to another host!" Frequency said, rising to pace again.

"There aren't exactly many host mecha around, and you are especially well-suited to him, first because he's already bonded to you, and secondly because you have only him and have the time to take care of a newspark." Cascade said reasonably.

"But I get all my cassettes killed! All of them." Frequency said, his vents beginning to hitch. He sat, trembling. "He deserves better than me."

Cascade watched him for a moment, then said, "What if there was someone to help you? Someone to watch out for Whisperglide and help you know what to do?" He asked.

"S- someone who would keep me from killing him?" Frequency asked shakily.

"Exactly," Cascade said. "I have full faith that you wouldn't, but they'd be there, just in case."

Frequency nodded. "That... it would be good."

"I'll make the arrangements. You may have to live somewhere else though, at least until you don't need the helper anymore." Cascade said.

"If- if it means..." If it meant he could keep Whisperglide without killing him, he'd do anything. He nodded, the motion stiff and abrupt. "Yeah. Whatever I have to do." It would mean he would have a chance to chase those sad, terrified emotions from his little one's spark. He'd do anything just to have that chance without endangering the newspark.

"I'll make the arrangements." Cascade knew there was a rehabilitation and support program for the mecha who had survived what Frequency had, and he wondered just how the mech had apparently slipped through the cracks. Probably because he wasn't violent or a danger to himself, but Cascade knew all too well that didn't mean a mech was anywhere near to healthy. Frequency needed help, and Cascade would get it for him.


	7. Chapter 7

Whisperglide lay in a small bed-with-walls, which had been brought in for him while Host had been gone. They had again attached something to him, which he didn't understand. It didn't matter, though. His tiny optics were fixed on his Host, who sat within his site next to the bed-with-walls. Host had come back for him. He didn't understand why. He was a horrible, bad cassette, after all. He had attacked Host, hurt him. He had hurt Host because he was afraid, and angry. Being afraid and angry was bad because it meant he hurt Host. Afraid and angry meant that Host left him. Maybe next time he wouldn't come back. 

Whisperglide was sure he would not have many more chances. He would do better, this time, be better. He would be the best cassette he knew how to be. He would act like a good cassette, even if he knew, deep down, that he was a horrible, bad cassette.

Being a good cassette meant knowing what Host wanted. He had to know what Host wanted of him. So he watched, his little optics never leaving his host.

\---

Frequency sat with his helm in his servos, processor spinning, chasing itself in unending circles. All of his cassettes died. Whisperglide had been dying. Whisperglide would eventually die. All his cassettes died.

He didn't have to look over to know the tiny, new-sparked cassette was staring at him accusingly with those orange optics, demanding answers for why he had been abandoned. Never mind that Frequency had done it for his own good. The cassette had been staring at him like that since he had returned.

The mentor would come soon, and then it wouldn't be long before he lost this cassette like he had all the others. It had all sounded so reasonable when Cascade had suggested it, suggested someone be found to help him care for Whisperglide. He needed help. He knew that, but...

_His cassettes were in small cages on the other side of the room, seperated from each other and seperated from him. Driver lay in a small heap at the bottom of his cage, more spare parts than cassette. Frequency could see him, just across the room, but he couldn't even go to him. He was unbound, but going near... that was what had led to the cassette's injuries in the first place. Tremors ran through his frame, his vents completely open as his frame responded to his emotional distress._

_"Looks like its spark chamber is compromised. Unfortunate, I suppose. Ah, well. I would prefer didn't do this to too many more of them, but it isn't as if we don't have other cassettes to replace these if you fail to learn," his trainer had said, just before shrugging and leaving the room._

_Frequency didn't move a single strut. His cassette made pitiful little sounds, whimpers and cries of pain, and still he did not move. The speaker lay there, its frame clanking and hissing and grinding as it struggled to continue function. He could feel the tiny spark gutter one, two, three times. Driver was dying, and there was nothing he could do about it. His host coding screamed at him to go to the cassette, to hold him, to at least comfort him in has last moments. Then it turned around and demanded he remain still, that he protect what would soon be his remaining cassettes._

_The second demand was stronger than the first, and so he sat, anguish and regret consuming him as that tiny, helpless spark, the one he was to protect, even at risk of deactivating himself, slowly headed toward deactivation._

This 'mentor' would be like his trainers, of course. Nobody would ever actually mean him well. Except maybe Cascade, but he was a medic. Medics were coded to help others, after all, weren't they? Yes, this mech - trainer, mentor, whatever one called him, it was the same - would be just like the others who had preceded him. If Frequency behaved in a satisfactory manner, then presumably, Whisperglide would be allowed to live. If Frequency could figure out what satisfactory behavior consisted of quickly enough. The only thing that kept him from snatching Whisperglide and leaving was the thought that maybe Cascade would find someone that really could help them.

Unless... if this mentor thought the cassette was gone, that it had died, or left him, then maybe he could have a chance to determine this mech's intentions before...

He snatched the newspark from the bassinet, central line and all. Though it wasn't as obvious as on some host mecha, he *did* have an internal dock, though it took only one cassette, and his previous cassettes had docked almost exclusively externally. He opened that dock now, trying to shove the now-frightened newspark into it, ignoring the surges of alarm and fear from the little one.

\---

Whisperglide had been watching Host, but the motion when the mech reached for him was so sudden that his squawk of alarm came only after he was being lifted, and then he was being pressed toward that small dark space, just big enough for him to fit within. He flailed frantically and then, once again, did the unthinkable. He lashed out with his tiny (but sharp) claws at Host, his field flaring erratically with fear.

And then another large servo caught his flailing limbs and he was pressed into the small, dark space. The light above him narrowed and then was gone. He could hear whirring, clicking, and gurgling all around him. He flailed frantically. What was this? His claws came up against metal. Where was Host? He could feel him all around, but he couldn't see him. And where was light? Air? The sky? What about the sky? Was it... was it gone? Had the sky gone forever? The little one keened his distress shrilly at the apparent demise of that wonderful expanse that, though he had yet to fly, sang to him of freedom and belonging all at once. That he had been indoors and unable to see the sky before this catastrophe had occured never even crossed his small processor.


	8. Chapter 8

When Cascade entered the room, Frequency was sitting, shoulders hunched. The host mech didn't look up. His only motion was a subtle flinch, but that could have been startlement from hearing the two mecha approach. The mech that followed Cascade was small, though still a full-sized mech. He had a distinctly unthreatening air, and more importantly, from Cascade's point of view, he had experience with newsparks, and a little experience with cassettes. Finding host mecha was hard enough, but finding host mecha that had experience with newsparks was impossible, so Cascade had taken the best he could find, given the situation. Had the noise of their pedesteps been less, they might have heard faint scrabbling and periodic keening, but as it was, that as well as the sounds of their systems functioning covered up most of the noise.

"Frequency, this is Moonglade. He'll be your mentor, and when Whisperglide is stable enough, he'll come stay with you two for a while," Cascade said. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Frequency. Cascade has told me about your situation and I hope to be able to help you and Whisperglide." He walked over to the basinet to check on the little one, and frowned. "Was he taken for some sort of treatment?"

"No..." Cascade frowned, then followed the central line, seeing where it was clamped where Frequency's dock closed. He considered a moment. The newspark was too young to dock properly, but small as he was, it was possible for him to be in the dock without being directly harmed, though he couldn't be getting anything through the central line, clamped off as it was. Still, he doubted the little one would seek to dock at this point. "Why don't you let him out, Frequency," Cascade suggested gently.

"No!" The host mech protested, even as he flinched again. "I have to keep him safe!" His optics were just a little too bright, flicking wildly between the two mecha.

Cascade nodded. "I know. I hope you know I would never hurt him, and I promise I won't let Moonglade do anything you don't want him to, alright?"

Frequency just shook his helm, field flaring fearfully.

"Frequency, you've got his fuel line clamped off. He's not getting any fuel in there." Cascade said, venting slowly. "You need to open your dock so he can fuel."

"I promise I won't do anything without asking you first," Moonglade said solemnly.

Frequency hesitated only a moment more before opening his dock. Whisperglide scrabbled up and out, optics as bright as Frequency's. Processed and unprocessed energon both coated his small frame, and the fuel line hung limply from where it had been inserted, shredded by small, panicked claws that had clearly lashed out at whatever it could get ahold of.

Cascade's spark dropped, but he only said calmly, "Can I take him to the counter to clean him up, Frequency?" 

Frequency hesitated, servos hovering protectively, but then he lifted the trembling newspark, passing him to the medic.

"Why did you put him in your dock?" Moonglade asked, no accusation in his voice, only curiosity.

"I- he- I have to protect him!" Frequency blurted.

"From what? Or who? Did something happen?" If it was his imminent arrival that had prompted this, they had a long, long way to go.

\---

Frequency rose, pacing closer, reaching as if to take Whisperglide from Cascade, then withdrawing. The medic was only cleaning him. This was okay. Whisperglide was safe with Cascade. Frequency eyed Moonglade uncertainly, but the mech didn't move from where he stood. Maybe... maybe he was okay... Maybe he would even help. Cascade wouldn't bring someone here that would hurt Whisperglide, would he? "What do you want?" He blurted, still eyeing the mech suspiciously.

"I want to help you. I want Whisperglide to grow up and be healthy and strong, and I want you and him to live well together as host and cassette," Moonglade replied immediately.

_We're helping you. We'll help you be better, be as hosts and cassettes ought. If only you would be more cooperative..._

He tried to push that hated voice away, but it echoed in his processor.

_Don't you want to be better? Don't you want to serve as you were created to?_ No! No, he didn't! He just wanted to take his cassettes - cassette, and be safe! He snatched Whisperglide and made a dash for the door, only to be stopped by the guard who had been placed there after his last escape attempt. He was unceremoniously marched back to sit down, and then the guard returned to the door. He sat, trembling, his ventilations altogether too fast. Whisperglide, clutched tightly in his servos, whined and struggled.

"You're squeezing him. Be careful," Cascade warned, and Frequency relaxed his grip. He had to get out of here, had to get away, had to protect this, his last cassette. He _would_ protect this one. He had failed the rest, but not again. Never again.


	9. Chapter 9

Frequency held Whisperglide gently in his servos, the little one silently gazing around the room. The silence worried Frequency, as all sparklings he'd been around (though there hadn't be many) had been noisy, active creatures. Cascade had assured him that the little one would be more active as he grew stronger, but still the host watched his cassette for anything that might be amiss. Cascade had taken him off of the energon line about a joor ago and had said he should try to feed him in about a joor. 

"Hello," Moonglade said from the doorway as he came in. 

Frequency shrank back. "Um. Hello..." Moonglade was here to help. That's what Cascade had said, but... he sounded just like the last mecha who had come to 'help.' He glanced down at Whisperglide. The sparkling was watching the newcomer with interest.

Frequency immediately opened his internal dock, lifting Whisperglide to put him in. He would be safer here. Protected.

The little one looked up at his Host, then, seeing the open dock, panicked, flailing. His claws grabbed at the edge of the dock opening, carving tiny furrows in Frequency's plating where they caught.

Moonglade settled to sit on a stool in the farthest point of the room, and just watched them quietly.

Whisperglide's vents were working overtime in response to his distress, his optics wildly bright in his desperation. He would not go back in the dark! He would not! When his claws couldn't hold on anymore, he clicked over and over in panicked binary, -No No No No NO NO!-

Frequency froze, staring down at his cassette. He had spoken! Finally, he had spoken! It was only binary, sure, but he had spoken! He gave Moonglade a suspicious look, but lowered Whisperglide, closing his dock. "Okay, bitlet," he said."I won't put you in." It might be safer to have Whisperglide in his dock, but he felt in his spark that with how long it had taken for the cassette to speak in the first place, it was important that he listen now that he was, in fact, speaking. The relief that washed through that little spark was worth the extra risk. For good measure, however, he glared at Moonglade. "You stay over there."

"I will," Moonglade said. "I won't do anything you're not okay with. Cascade said he should be hungry soon. Do you want me to get the feeder ready?"

Frequency hesitated, and looked down at Whisperglide, hoping to prompt him to speak again. "Are you hungry?"

The little one just stared at him, and Frequency vented heavily. He had been hoping his cassette would speak again, but... clearly that wasn't going to happen yet. He could ask Moonglade to prepare the feeder, but if the mech put something in it that hurt Whisperglide... "No. I'll do it." He could watch and make sure the mech didn't touch Whisperglide and prepare the feeder at the same time. 

He set Whisperglide down, glaring once more at Moonglade, who just stayed very still in his spot. He crossed the room to prepare the feeder, and, as he did nearly every time, his little optics went fear-bright, and he curled up tightly, venting very quickly and trembling. 

Frequency returned and gathered him up. He vented heavily. "Oh, bit..." He stroked those tiny wings, murmuring soothingly until the little one relaxed somewhat, then Frequency tried offering him the feeder, with no success. Whisperglide turned his helm away, only turning away the other way when Frequency tried again.

"Does that always happen?" Moonglade asked from his spot in the corner.

Frequency nodded hesitantly. He didn't want to risk Whisperglide's safety, but he didn't see that Moonglade could do anything bad with that information in this situation.

"Hm," Moonglade said thoughtfully. "We'll have to sort that out. Maybe let him calm down more and try again with the feeder."

Frequency hesitated, then nodded again. There was certainly no harm in the approach. "Fine, but you stay over there," he said tersely.

"I wasn't even thinking of moving," Moonglade said calmly.


End file.
